


Once upon a dream

by MissCamomille



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Elementary canon universe but with magic, F/F, Inspired by Maleficent (2014), Set in the modern world, Wicked fairy, fae
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 12:04:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15930065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissCamomille/pseuds/MissCamomille
Summary: “Why, but of course there is a cure”, Jamie had smiled smugly when dear Sherlock came to beg for his friend’s life, understanding the sickness would be putting an end to it. “True love’s kiss shall free one from the curse of an evil fairy, haven’t you ever read as a boy?”





	Once upon a dream

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brocanteur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brocanteur/gifts).



> Hi everyone!
> 
> My first work for this pairing, but I've watched the show and read many of the available fiction on this website and I just love them. I wrote this piece during the summer and it has been sitting in my computer ever since. I wasn't sure I would be posting it online, but new content for this ship seems to be fewer and fewer, so I thought I'd share. I also am about to become very busy so, better it be now. :)
> 
> Manage your expectations though haha, I am not a native English speaker and this is just some nonsense I really enjoyed writing. Hopefully someone will find it enjoyable !
> 
> Happy reading. :D

Jamie Moriarty, that was her name. The sorceress, the wicked fairy, the Protector of Knowledge. The one who was once crossed by one famous knowledge seeker, consultant detective Sherlock Holmes.

The curse the fae chose to bestow on his one partner and dear friend Joan Watson was probably a means of vengeance just as it was a way of doing harm and brewing sorrow into humans’ hearts, something the blonde creature always rejoiced in doing. He loved that Joan woman, he had tried to cross the Protector, and the Protector had crossed him back.

The curse was slow acting, the way the fae had wanted it, but creeped itself surely and deeply into the inner workings of Joan’s body, taking her strength away a bit more every day that passed.

“Why, but of course there is a cure”, Jamie had smiled smugly when dear Sherlock came to beg for his friend’s life, understanding the sickness would be putting an end to it. “True love’s kiss shall free one from the curse of an evil fairy, haven’t you ever read as a boy?”

She was sitting in a regal looking chair, and he was standing over her, but there was no confusion to be made as to who was above the other. Sherlock closed his eyes, shook his head, pinched his lips. Finally, his head sunk down, eyes trailed to the floor in defeat.

They both knew there was no such thing as true love.

“How much longer?”

Jaime’s head went sideways as she thought, regarding him with a passive look on her beautiful face.

“A few months, I’d say. Although it is to my understanding that we’re dealing with a force of character here. Then, a year, perhaps.”

A year. 

 

***

 

Joan was tired. She closed the door behind her, dropped her bag to the floor with a deep, aching sigh. Searched for the light in the dark, her fingers touching the tapestries.

There was an ever growing heaviness in her bones, an exhaustion that seemed to rob her of her physical abilities, without ever touching her mind.

That was probably the worst of it. Sometimes, as Joan tried to imagine this powerful woman who had used her magic to cast this shadow on her, she wondered if she had done it on purpose. Made it so that she could still think, her brain as fast and sharp as it had always been, while her body slowly gave up. A fish trapped in a nest.

Joan thought she would have.

 

***

 

“I have to admit, I had assumed you would arrive quite a bit sooner.”

Startled, Joan froze, her hand ceasing its blind search upon the wall. There, gone undetected until this very moment, in the chair by the half closed window, a feminine silhouette detached itself from the dark.

“Sooner?”

Joan’s hand retreated, hanging to her side once again. She could hear the stranger’s calm breathing, feel her eyes on her. Slowly, in a light ruffle, the woman stood up, and as she stepped forward into the light of the moon trailing on the floor, Joan could see the two grand wings stretching on either side of her body. Black, majestic wings covered in soft feathers that made her look like an angel of death.

“Yes”, the woman was now close enough for Joan to see her features. “From the train tickets I found booked on your computer, I gathered you were visiting your mother. Oh, I hope you’ll forgive me for doing the same earlier, I was hoping to talk to you and couldn’t find you at the Brownstone.” She stood right in front of the smaller woman now, sharp blue eyes taking Joan in. “But it seemed like you were about to leave, and so I came back here to await your return. I suppose we both agree this place is more suitable than your mother’s house for the kind of conversation we are bound to carry out.”

Joan opened her mouth, closed it. Leaned some of her weight on the wall. “Why are you here…?”

Jamie’s hand shot up in a flash, and Joan instinctively reared back.

“Shh”, Jamie’s voice came out as reassuring as a criminal’s ever could and she lowered her hand. “It’s been a year, dear Watson”, her hand came back up, but this time Joan didn’t move one bit, anxiously looking between the fae’s hypnotic eyes. Jamie’s fingers trailed her cheek, her touch cold as ice. “And you sure do look a bit sleep deprived; quite sick I’d even say, but you’re breathing, walking on those tired, tired legs of yours.”

Joan swore, there was something akin to reverence in this calculating gaze, an awe she had seemed to inspire.

She lifted her head, chasing away the fairy’s hands. “I am a seemingly healthy woman in the flower of age. Shouldn’t I be? Breathing, walking?”

Defiance.

A small, dark chuckle left the pink lips that were so close to Joan’s own.

“I’m impressed”, the blonde’s hand retreated. “I don’t typically misread people, my dear Joan, but it seems I have underestimated you.”

Joan frowned. “From what I know, this is our first meeting. You cursed me to get to Sherlock. You didn’t know me.”

“You’re right”, the fae turned away, nodding to herself. “Of course, I do hope you understand your death is a tragic event that brings me no further pleasure than that of the pain it will cause our dear Holmes. It is not personal.”

A shiver run past Joan. She was getting cold.

“I-“, she coughed, repressed another shudder. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

Jamie paused, back turned to her. “I suppose not.” She resumed her pacing.

There was some moment of silence, that stretched rather uncomfortably for Joan.

“I hope you don’t mind me repeating myself”, Joan’s sarcastic tone broke the moment “But, why are you here?”

Jamie turned around to face her, an eyebrow lifted in consideration.

“I mean, I can see you expected me to be dead by now, and you’re somewhat impressed I pulled through for this long, but surely you can’t have gone through so much trouble to see me just so you could meet me…?”

Jamie remained silent.

Oh.

“Are you here to kill me?”

She coughed again.

“I thought about it”, Jamie finally answered. “But wouldn’t that be such a pathetic answer to your obvious show of strength? Admittance at my own curse’s weakness? No, that simply wouldn’t do.”

The fairy walked back over to Joan, her wings trailing on the floor behind her. In a manner too quick for Joan to protest, she seized her wrist and turned it over, tracing the vital veins there with cynical precision, a light glow seeping from her fingertips.

“Hmm”, she hummed to herself in thought, “you are quite weak. You had more strength that I initially estimated, but you’ll run out of it soon enough. I can feel it draining out of you as we speak.”

She let one of her hands move up the human’s arm, up to her shoulder, gold shimmering flooding out of her fingertips to disappear into Joan’s skin. 

Joan breathed out a sigh of relief, some of the intense ache in her body vanishing into the air.

“Your eyes tell stories, Joan Watson,” Jamie murmured as her hand traveled to her neck, leaving golden dust in its wake. “If you would allow me, I’d wish to read them before they close forever.”

Her hair was pushed behind her ear. Joan still didn’t move.

“I shall see you soon then, dear.”

And in a shuffle of wings she was gone, the window wide open and golden dust lingering on the wooden floor.

 

***

 

Golden blue. That was the exact color of Jamie’s eyes.

As promised, the fairy returned. She would appear at the most surprising times, and then would leave in much the same manner. Unexpected. Fast.

“Why, darling”, she’s said sometime as she combed her fingers through ink black hair. “Does it bother you not to know?”

At times, it did. But mostly, it didn’t matter.

Whenever she visited, Jamie would lend her power, breathe gold into Joan’s veins, give her the strength to survive until their next meeting. And she would feel better, for a while. Stronger. Until the effects wore off and it was worse than before.

Jamie was a very strange woman. Perhaps it was, Joan thought, because she was not a woman. Jamie was a fae, a wicked fairy, the Protector of Knowledge, a criminal mastermind at the commands of an endlessly powerful dark magic organization. She was bound to be somewhat strange.

But there was this warmth sometimes in those golden blue eyes when they regarded Joan, a growing kind of reverence that should have had no place in the heart of a killer for their victim. This aggression other times, this ice in her voice when Joan provoked her, this clear itch to slip her hands around the human’s slender throat and squeeze until she stopped struggling.

She’d slapped her, once. Roughed her around the house, scared her out of her mind when she flew them both over the city and risked her head a bit too close to the buildings. But other times, she would hold her. Play with her hair, wrap her wings around her as she slept, as if to prevent her from seeing the ugly in the world, as if to shelter her from evil.

She couldn’t, of course. She couldn’t.

Jamie Moriarty was a living, breathing contradiction, and it was driving Joan wild.

 

***

 

“Darling?”

The only answer she could hear in the darkness of the bedroom was the difficult, ragged breathing of the woman lying on the bed.

The sorceress advanced, slowly, reverently, and sat by Joan’s side.

“I think it’s time”, Joan whispered, her whole body trembling, face tensed up in a display of pain. She was pale, too pale, her brow covered in sweat. “Sherlock left earlier, we said goodbye already. He didn’t want to see you and I thought you might come.” ‘I hoped you would’ went unsaid, but they both heard it linger. Joan swallowed, tried to still her shaking muscles. She was just so cold. “Please, Jamie. Don’t you try and torment him any more than you have. He’s feeling bad enough as it is.”

A finger traced the contour of her face, slowly, as if mapping it, committing it to memory. Joan thought she could feel somewhat of a trembling in this usually sure and precise touch.

“I won’t, darling, I won’t”, Jamie whispered as she let her hand fall to the raven black hair of this human girl who was so much more than she could have thought. “That is my promise to you, Joan Watson. Sherlock Holmes is free of his debt towards me.” She took a shaky, stabilizing breath. “It would be an insult to the worth of your life if I said he wasn’t.”

Joan closed her eyes, nodded, shivering violently. 

“Thank you, Jamie.”

They stayed there for a few more minutes, Jamie’s fingers tenderly passing through Joan’s hair, smoothing, soothing.

Then, as Joan opened her eyes to look at this beautiful, beautiful face she had come to crave: “Have you read all my stories yet, Protector of Knowledge?”

Shaking her head, Jamie let out a wet laugh, a veil of tears now covering the gold blue of her eyes.

“I don’t think I ever could.”

And then, bending down over this woman who she had cursed to die, Jamie finally let herself cry.

Their lips met.

The pain faded away.

"Don't you leave me, love."

**Author's Note:**

> Please do tell me what you think I'd love to hear back from you :)


End file.
